Super Drive
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Yuki and Shuichi on a simple drive home.


**Title:** Super Drive   
**Author:** Celeste   
**Rating:** R. Oh, R. Bad you, Ann!   
**Theme:** Gay cars   
**Time:** approx 1.5 hours   
**Word Count:** 1,170   
**Summary:** Yuki and Shuichi on a simple drive home.   
**Dedication:** To the Lonely Drivers Club! May you read this and never be lonely again! XD   
**A/N:** I am a bad person. And I wrote gay car porn. Sort of porn. Fweeheehee. CAR PORN!   
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. ;;

* * *

Yuki twitched as he stared at the back seat via the rearview mirror, made a derisive noise in his nose and shifted the car to a lower gear, hoping the change would launch that idiot from his disgustingly comfortable position and onto the floor.

There was something decidedly irritating (and pornographic) about the way Shuichi sprawled carelessly about his back seat, spread against the cushion with his face nuzzling the heated leather as he slept, the occasional scandalous sound of orgasmic bliss pouring from the singer's lips while he writhed around like a rutting dog.

On those positively sinful noises and suggestive motions, Yuki was beginning to suspect that on those nights when he was too tired and Shuichi was whining about how he never paid any attention to him, throwing the brat into the backseat of his car and turning on the seat heaters would be just as good as sex for the idiot.

He'd certainly paid enough for this feat of German engineering that it should provide any additional services that he might need (like getting Shuichi off his back). And it would certainly be easier for him if all the idiot needed was something warm and smooth to rub himself off on in his sleep.

Eyeing the rearview again, Yuki decided that with how happy the kid looked, this was looking like a promising alternative.

And hey, if the brat was feeling especially needy, the seats could always be adjusted and the gear shift or the hand brake were both about the right shape and size for…

Eiri snickered to himself. He'd probably need to put the wiper fluid to good use before _that_ could work properly.

Oh the imagery.

He recalled a time not too long ago when he'd jokingly (okay, rather seriously) told Shuichi to go run the engine and suck on the exhaust if he had nothing better to do on one of those days when the brat was prattling incessantly about how bored out of his mind he was and distracting Yuki from his work. Sure, the comment had been malicious then, but thinking back on it now, with Shuichi's highly vocal accompaniment from the back seat, the image seemed to have garnered a completely non-suicidal image in the writer's head when he thought more about it. Heh. Non-suicidal and _dirty_. Yuki speculated to himself that this might be how fetishes were started.

Amused with the simultaneous perversion and randomness of his thoughts, the writer turned back to the road, mentally storing the images he'd conjured up for possible use in his next work, and continued to drive.

Eiri loved the feel of the road beneath him, flying over it to whatever ends his destination entailed. The thrill of the ride, the sounds and smells and sensations of a vehicle completely in his control was powerful, freeing…stimulating. He allowed a small smile and shifted in his chair, releasing the gas in one smooth movement, pressing the clutch to change gears again, lovingly directing the vehicle to perform to its fullest capacity. The engine purred seductively, causing miniscule vibrations to ripple through his body, starting at the soles of his feet and working up through his legs and thighs to settle deliciously in the pit of his stomach.

In the backseat, Shuichi groaned.

Yuki tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

He turned sharply left onto the off-ramp that would take them home seconds before he would have missed it and decided that he could never tell Shuichi that he could nap on the way home again. Ever.

Shuichi, still oblivious despite Yuki's sudden manic swerve, murmured breathily and flexed his legs, smiling in his sleep as he rubbed his cheek contentedly into the upholstery.

He was, in other words, completely unaware of how badly he was violating Yuki's car.

Determined to ignore the idiot, Eiri clenched his teeth and turned back to the road, the patterns the pavement made as he whizzed by, the sounds of a well-cared for engine, the lights, the warm softness of his seat, the smell of gasoline and the simple, blissful _feel_ of driving.

Even on this short ride home, driving was an experience in itself, which, in its totality was inexplicable. Even for a novelist of Eiri's caliber, there just wasn't a word or even a concept that could explain how it all felt at once, that could do it the proper sort of justice.

It was like…

…like…

"Mmmmmmmm…_Yuki_…"

Yeah.

Like _that_.

He grasped the gear shift tighter, thumbing its head as it moved in his hand, and eased his body weight back ever so slightly, his leg muscles tightening, toes curling in his shoes just so as he guided the black Mercedes down the street towards their apartment complex, forward, closer, closer...

"Yuki…Hah…hah…hah…"

Just a few seconds more…

He rounded the final corner and quickly shifted up, reduced his speed as he reached to push the final button.

"Ahhhhhhhhh…"

The automated garage door to the underground parking structure slowly opened up and Yuki plunged inside before it was fully aloft, pulling into their assigned spot hastily, tires screeching.

_Yes_.

They'd arrived. Unprecedented beads of sweat trickled down the back of Yuki's neck and he swiped at them absently with the palm of one hand, turning slightly to study Shuichi in the back.

He looked downright _content_ with the world.

Two deep breaths later and Eiri killed the engine, leaning back in his seat and letting his head drop against the headrest as he allowed all of his muscles to come down from the adrenaline high and slowly relax.

As the feeling of motion stopped and a heavy stillness descended on the post-drive air, Shuichi squirmed slightly before peeling his cheek from the leather and lifting his head slightly, blinking to wakefulness in degrees. His hair was mussed, and his clothes in wild disarray, the collar of his flimsy t-shirt slipping off one shoulder and his shorts hiked up mid-thigh. The singer smiled tiredly, eyes bleary and cheeks rosy-pink, a sparkling trail of spit trailing from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. On any other day, Yuki might have shouted at him for drooling all over his car, but…

"Ne, we're home already, Yuki?" Shuichi asked softly, voice sweet and deceptively innocent. In other words, nothing at all like the noises he had been making while he slept on the drive back.

Yuki frowned and unbuckled his seatbelt, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he patted himself down in search of his cigarettes. He was absolutely certain now. This was _exactly_ how fetishes were started.

"Yuki?"

Yuki, speed and gasoline still pounding in his blood, turned to look at the singer with dark eyes. "You have five seconds to get upstairs and get naked, or I'm fucking you in the parking lot."

"What? Yuki?!"

"Five…"

"But…but…"

"Four…"

"Eep!" Shuichi made a confused, but lively dash for the elevator, pausing a moment too long to try and unlock the door.

"Threetwoone."

"_Yuki_!!!!!!"

**END**


End file.
